


Early to rise

by LiveOakWithMoss



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cousin Incest, M/M, Morning Sex, Uncomfortable breakfasts in Nargothrond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is beyond Curufin how his cousin can be so chipper in the mornings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early to rise

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. Silje's prompt, and my official excuse for why none of my WIPs have been updated.

The high windows of the king’s bedchamber allowed the grey light of early morning to play over Curufin’s closed eyelids while distantly, the sound of birdsong joined the omnipresent sound of the river. 

Soft lips pressed lightly against the back of his neck, and loose golden hair trailed over his bare shoulder as his companion bent over him. 

Curufin growled and buried his face in the pillow. “Leave be, Ingoldo.” 

He could feel Finrod’s smile against his skin. “It is a beautiful morning.” 

“It is  _barely_  morning.” 

Finrod sighed and stretched out, pressing himself easily along Curufin’s back. He ran a hand down Curufin’s side, and Curufin shivered, despite himself. “Cannot you hear the birds?” 

“Fuck the birds.” 

Finrod nuzzled into his shoulder. “I’d rather not.” 

Curufin groaned and wrapped his arms around his pillow, burrowing further from his cousin. “Have you no decency? You kept me up until a bare few hours ago, and now you wake me with your incessant prattle and insatiable libido?” 

“If I had any decency,” murmured Finrod. “I wouldn’t have you in my bed at all.” 

“You don’t usually allow me to spend the night,” Curufin muttered. “I am seeing now that this wasn’t such a bad thing. Why was last night different?” 

“I do not know,” said Finrod, unconcernedly, his hand sliding over Curufin’s hip. “A moment of weakness, perhaps. Maybe I was listening to my ‘insatiable libido’ rather than my better judgment. Maybe you ensorcelled me with your wicked ways.” 

“Is this then your revenge? Exhausting me with physical demands and then dragging me from sleep to torment me?” 

“Mm,” Finrod agreed. “Revenge sounds like a good enough reason. I feel certain I owe you punishment for something…” 

“Just add it to my tab, why don’t you?” Curufin tried to pull himself further from his cousin’s arms, but he was rapidly approaching the side of the bed, and halted as his pillow fell off the edge with a muffled thump. Finrod hummed and hooked his chin over Curufin’s shoulder. 

“Come, cousin, does not the morning rouse you? Do you not wake electric with possibility?” Finrod’s fingers traced the line from Curufin’s hip to his groin, and Curufin shuddered at the sensation. He kept his eyes determinedly shut as his cousin laid his lips to his ear, and whispered, “You may resist wakefulness, but your body does not. Will you deny it its urges?” 

“It is a laugh,” said Curufin, as Finrod ran his tongue against the curve of his ear, “to think that  _I_  ensorcell  _you_. By the Valar, the House of Arafinwë spawns demons rather than sons.” 

“Do not be so melodramatic,” said Finrod, and rolled him over to press a long kiss to his lips. 

Frustrated, Curufin’s eyes snapped open and he bit vengefully into Finrod’s kiss. “Will you not let me sleep?” 

“If you can convince me that is truly what you want,” said Finrod, settling himself athwart Curufin’s hips, “then I shall acquiesce. But,” and he bent to latch his mouth to Curufin’s throat, already marked with the bruises of the previous night, “I do believe you protesteth too much.” 

“You infuriating harlot, Ingoldo,” growled Curufin, and dug sharp fingers into Finrod’s fair skin. “I shall show you  _protest_  – ” He pulled himself upright and seized his cousin around the waist. He tossed him easily back on the tangled bedclothes, Finrod landing in a sprawl of long limbs and golden hair, his bare figure striking against the rich colors of the embroidered quilts. He gazed up at Curufin with bright, amused eyes, and the self-satisfied look on his face infuriated Curufin. He descended on Finrod with a snarl, knowing that he was only reinforcing his cousin’s smugness, but not caring; he wanted only to bite the smile from those knowing lips, to mar that perfect skin, to make that soft voice catch on a wrecked moan of pleasure, to shatter that unblemished composure… 

It was just what Finrod wanted, of course. But knowing this diminished Curufin’s pleasure not at all. 

 

- 

 

It was well past mid-morning when they descended to the great hall for breakfast. Celegorm and Celebrimbor had already finished their own meals. Celegorm was lounging by the fire, Huan at his feet, lazily sharpening his hunting knife. 

Celebrimbor was absorbed in some sketches on the table, his empty plate long-forgotten at his side. He looked up as his father and Finrod entered, and his eyes flickered from Curufin’s closed expression to Finrod’s half-smile, and then hit the floor, a flush spreading over his cheeks. 

The boy was perceptive, Curufin mused. The marks of their play were covered by high collars and long sleeves, and both of them appeared as composed as ever. But to the observant, the tension buzzing like a live charge between them would broadcast their recent activities as clearly as if they had been naked. 

Curufin himself would have spotted such things, though he’d long ago dismissed his son as lacking his inborn perspicacity. But judging by his blush as he hastily rolled up his drawings, Celebrimbor knew – or guessed – or feared – what his father and cousin had been up to. 

Celegorm, by the fire, met his eyes once, an almost indulgent smile on his handsome face. Celegorm didn’t need insight to know such things.  _I can smell it on you_ , he’d told Curufin once, baring his teeth, but he didn’t need to. Curufin hid nothing from his brother. Or very nearly nothing. 

Finrod seated himself serenely, as the servants hurried to bring them fruit and breads for their morning meal. 

“You break your fast late,” said Celegorm, grinning as Celebrimbor removed himself from the hall, “Did you oversleep, brother?” 

“You know me,” said Curufin lightly, plucking a grape from Finrod’s plate, “I do not like to rise early, if I can avoid it.” 

Celegorm laughed, leaning back in his chair in an easy sprawl, stretching his legs out before him. “And you, cousin? What’s your excuse?” 

“Oh, I wake early whenever possible,” said Finrod, and he licked juice from his fingers in a way that made Curufin clench his teeth, “But sometimes, I like to lie abed for a while, and listen to the sound of the birds.” He didn’t look at Curufin, but Curufin felt the heat flood him as powerfully as if his cousin had touched him. “I do so like to hear them sing.”


End file.
